Broken by Vengence
by ajsmiles
Summary: Isabelle discovers a painful truth on the path of avenging her big brothers death. OC focused. Based loosely around the time of the first series.
1. Chapter 1

Panting, Isabelle bowed to her opponent, sheathing her sword and collecting the small pile of coins laid in wager upon the table. Of course, in the arrogance of man he had assumed that this mere woman would not be able to defeat him in a duel. With the last 5 pieces of silver in her pocket she laid down her wager, matched and doubled with confidence by her opponent.

She had him defeated easily, but chose to let the fight wage on a little longer, just to allow him his dignity. He was on his knees still as she turned and left the tavern. Once in the poorly lit street, she legged it, the rhythmic taping of her leather boots against the pebble stones the only sound she focused upon until she was satisfied that she was not followed. She walked quickly among the shadows, enjoying the anonymity the men's trousers, shirt and hat brought to her.

She lived within a stones throw of the Musketeers garrison, yet she strove to avoid it, often walking three streets out of her way to reach home, without being forced to gaze upon that cursed fleur de lis. That damn symbol of the kings men, the one she had been so proud to see her brother wear.

She ducked into the Church of Saint Paul, as hooves carrying red guards trotted past, she ensconced herself in a shadowy pew, watching the late night mourners, the homeless sheltering from the cold, the mothers praying for the safety of their sons in war, the fathers begging the lord for a good, wealthy man for their daughters. She dipped her head, clasped her hands and repeated a prayer she had uttered what must be a thousand times before.

'Lord give me the strength to fight the battles my brother has left unfought. Make me fast, make me accurate. Let my aim be true and my hand faster than those who would seek to destroy me. Grant me victory over my foes, and those who would seek to harm me and mine' she murmured, raising her eyes to the figure of Christ upon his cross, before crossing herself and kissing the tiny medallion of her brothers she left about her neck at all times.

She prayed for her brother day and night, the only family whom she had ever truly loved. He had died in an ambush, killed in cold blood. She had vowed, upon receiving the note of his death, to avenge his death. To ensure that he had not died in vain.

She reached her rooms not long before dawn, first streaks of brilliant pinks shining brightly upon the clouds. Isabelle admired the beauty from her window for a few moments, before closing the shutters tightly blocking any light from the room. She would rest now, her duel had earned her enough to keep her hunger at bay for the week, enough to pay her small rent. She stripped herself bare, washed her dirty hands and face, and stretched upon the small, but soft, mattress. It was cool enough in the early spring morning that she was comfortable beneath her quilt, drifting into the pleasant darkness of sleep easily.

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My first published Musketeers fic. please R &amp; R, love to hear your thoughts. thanks 3

aj.


	2. Chapter 2

'Isabelle!' Rene called from the bank of the river 'Isabelle, it's time to come ashore now' he held his hand above his eyes, shielding them from the harsh noon sun. He watched his little sister swim easily through the swiftly moving water, making her way towards the safety of the shoreline.

'Rene, you're home early!' she called as she reached the shallows. She was naked, and she covered herself with her hands as she rose from the water, quickly gathering her towel from the sandy edge. She wrapped it around herself and hurried up the embankment, excitedly throwing her arms around her brother, the first time she had seen him in 6 months. 'It is so good to see you. I've missed you so'

'You may wish to make yourself decent' he whispered, pulling away slightly, and meeting her eyes 'I have friends with me'

'Why didn't you say so earlier!' she gasped, gripping her towel closer to herself. 'How improper'

'I have a friend I'd like you to meet' his grin was almost devilish, as he turned around to stand guard. She slipped behind a tree and hurridly dressed. She finished tying her emerald green dress's corset as Rene waved for his friends to approach.

'My darling sister Isabelle, may I introduce you to Athos and Porthos' he said with pride. Isabelle curtsied as the young men bowed. At 15, she was expected to find a husband, or be found a husband, very soon. Rene was obviously trying to help her avoid the sickening older men her father was trying to betroth her to.

'Madmoiselle' Athos smiled, the crinkles around his eyes even in his youth drew her gaze to the deep brown depths.

'Your brother has told us so much about you. He hardly speaks of anything else' Porthos said, with a nudge to Rene. 'I won't deny his claims of your beauty'

'Rene!' she admonished, sounding scandalized 'You are to be training to defend our king, not find me a husband!'

'Would you prefer fathers choices?' he shrugged

'I would rather fight alongside the musketeers than take a husband of fathers choice' she reached out and ran her fingers of the finely tooled leather guard on his shoulder, before throwing herself into his arms again 'Oh Brother, I'm so pleased to see you again'


	3. Chapter 3

It had been 7 years since her bothers death. Seven long years Isabelle had been fighting the scum of Paris, biding her time before she was skilled enough to face the one who had brought about his death. 7 years of her life spent living and breathing for the day she could avenge her dear brother. It was always the dream of the last time she saw him, riding away from their family home straight backed and beaming proud, that woke her from otherwise peaceful sleep. How she wished she could see him just once more.

Isabelle was now used to little sleep. She rose, Rene's wide smile still in her minds eye, and prepared herself.

Dressed once more in her standard, flowing dress, her hair braided neatly and pinned delicately to her head, she attended the market, picking out the most delicious smelling fruit and the freshest mutton.  
She paid her next months rent to the landlord, pressing the extra coins into his palm with a smile.  
She had always been smart with money. The money earned from her fathers lands and farm went straight into an account with a money lender in her town, earning a steady sum of interest as the amount accrued. Each month he sent her an allotted amount, which paid for food, rent and a generous amount of wine to dull her pain, to help her sleep.

People pitied her, she could hear them. They pitied the orphaned, husband-less woman, swiftly approaching an age which she would become a spinster forever. They were nasty behind her back, the other women. She had no need for a husband. She could earn her way on her own. But women will gossip, and so they chose her as their topic. She avoided the eyes of any and all musketeers who happened to walk near her, lest one of them recognize her despite the time that had passed.

She knew she was not unattractive. Her almost black hair, pale skin, and bright, shining green eyes made her stand out among crowds, though she tried to hide as much as possible. She had not cut her hair since the day her brother died, and it now reached below her buttocks, beautiful, dark ringlets that were envied by many who tried to mimic. She wore green often, because she knew it made her eyes shine. On occasions when she needed a man to believe she was weaker than she truly was, she was grateful for her delicate limbs that betrayed none of her true strength.

She had suitors call occasionally, but she made it clear she was not a woman of wealth, nor was she interested in finding a husband.

She wanted no distractions from the result she wanted. She would not be swayed.

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I've almost finished writing this one, should be 6, maybe 7 chapters at the most. I hope you're enjoying it so far. Those of you who have read the original Alexander Dumas books may recognize a familiar name, therefore may be able to pick where this is headed.  
To those who have followed, Thank you! It makes me so happy to know you're enjoying this enough to want to keep updated!  
Please review and let me know what you think! All mistakes are my own.

once more, thank you for reading :-) 3 enjoy!

aj x


	4. Chapter 4

Athos watched his friends sister, her graceful moves as she danced with her brother in the tavern. They laughed, she was tipsy on the rich red wine they bought, pink spots on her cheekbones, and she twirled, her skirts lifting and falling gracefully. The emerald green of her dress brought out her eyes, sparkling in the warm firelight.

She was obviously adored by her brother, and by the people of the town, the beautiful little girl who did no wrong. Porthos had long since disappeared with a lovely young lady and a bottle of the taverns finest. Athos could not help but stare. When he raised his cup to his lips, he realised that she was staring back, her gaze broken only by her brother as he spun her. He watched her call a stop to their play, and she made her way happily back to the table, her eyes on Athos the whole time. She took her seat, drained her cup and smiled at him.

'Will you not dance with me Athos?' she asked eventually, her inhibitions low.

Her brother was talking with old companions, chatting gladly about times past, the tavern was noisy, still early by drinking standards.

'I shall not deny a lady' He held out his hand to her as he stood, making for the empty space that stood as a dance floor, close to where the local musicians were playing a lively tune.

'You look uncomfortable, Athos, would you prefer to sit in quiet company?'

'Shall we compromise? A dance for mademoiselle Isabelle and a quiet drink for me?' he placed his hand on her waist. Facing her in such close proximity flooded his senses with the scent of her perfume, and the scent of her skin which was so undeniably feminine.

Their dance became two, three and four, stepping, twirling, prancing. Athos even smiled, the laughter in his voice reached his eyes, as he watched her spin under his hand. She was so young and precious. He could never understand the urgency of marrying off daughters at such a young age. So barely developed, so infantile minded. But this one captured him. She was bright, witty, funny. She had no problem with rebuking men who were rude or uncouth. She spoke clearly, cleverly, openly. This was one who could shake the world, if the world were more open to women.

'Shall we seek out a quieter spot Monsieur Athos?' she asked as the instruments died down after their fifth dance 'I fear my ears are ringing'

'As ever you wish, my lady' he again took her arm and, after collecting a fresh bottle, they walked into the fresh cool evening air. Her brother checked them at the door, a warning glance to Athos, and gentle smile and reminder not to be late home with his precious sister.

'where shall we find to sit mademoiselle? This is your town, direct me' Athos asked the wine reaching his head in the coolness of the evening.

'Please. Isabelle. Just Isabelle' she smiled, steering him gently 'Follow me, I want to show you something' It was about a half mile from the tavern, an empty field, hard to make out in the moonless night. She laid down her cape on the grass and he followed suit, sitting beside her.

'What am I seeing?' he asked

'look up' she whispered, laying back, taking his arm and using his hand to point, her head close to his so she could direct him properly. She traced his finger over a row of stars. 'This is scorpio. The ancients banished scorpio and orion to the stars on opposite sides of the earth to prevent their fighting' she explained constellation after constellation, telling him the stories of the Greeks, the romans, the Egyptians. He had never spent much time looking at the stars, but he was glad he was learning now, with this beautiful girl pressed against him, explaining. Her hand still covered his, her body pressed into the length of his side, her breath tickled against his neck.

Finally, Athos looked at her 'Isabelle, how do you know all this'

'Before my mother passed, she asked my father to ensure that her daughter had an education to rival any nobleman. It was her dying wish, he could not deny her that. So I've been educated, in secret of course, by the best in the land' she paused, his eyes betraying his amazement 'I believe all women should be afforded the opportunity to be educated. I am not less of a person just because I was born a women'

'You are amazing' he whispered. He wanted to kiss her, this beautiful, intelligent young woman. It had been a long time since he had felt the stirring of his emotions like this.

Isabelle realised she was being indiscreet, pressed against this man. He was ever so handsome. Gently she eased herself away from him, aware of the flicker of disappointment that crossed his face. 'I am not amazing, sir. Simply a woman'

'Have you ever been kissed, Isabelle?' it was a small country town, girls didn't not often keep their honour intact as long as she had. He imagined she had at least a little experience.

'I have not yet, Athos. I have not found a man in this small town I should ever enjoy kissing' she glanced at his lips, more inviting than any she had ever seen.

Athos fought with himself, loyal as he still was to his dead wife, but so attracted to this beautiful woman before him, never been kissed, her lips full and red and completely entrancing. 'May I have the honour of being the first?'

Her breath caught in her throat, and she bit her lip, before his thumb brushed gently over her lower lip, releasing it from her worrying. 'I would like nothing more' she said finally.

She had often imagined her first kiss, from what she had seen around her, it seemed to be a rough, hurried affair. And then she had seen her friend kissed by her betrothed. A slow, unhurried, gentle kiss, pressed together as though nothing else around them mattered.  
Athos remembered his first kiss. A servant girl who he had seduced when he was just 15. He had shown her what it was to be romanced.

He brushed his lips against hers softly, cupping her head with his hand as he lowered her to the ground, holding himself up on an elbow while he slowly caressed her mouth with his own, his tongue trailing a wet path across her lip, begging entrance. She opened up to him with the slightest sigh, her tongue meeting his, following his lead as he explored her mouth, her hand twining itself around his neck, pulling him deeper into her.  
It was like forever but an instant, when he pulled away, and they both suffered at the loss.  
He saw the stars reflected in her eyes, the pleasure and the joy. So he kissed her again, taking her mouth for his own, his hand at her waist pulling her closer to him, his knee between her legs. Her fingers raked through his hair, sending shivers through him.

'Isabelle' he sighed eventually, his lips in the hollow of her throat 'You are enchanting'

'I know you cannot be a husband for me' she said softly, as though lost in thought 'I see it in your face. There is love and loss, and I cannot extinguish that. I only ask that you keep my brother safe. Please, Athos.'

He stared at her, this perceptive, beautiful girl beneath his fingertips and he vowed no harm would come to Rene while he still breathed.


	5. Chapter 5

'Athos' she awoke with his name on her lips, as she did often. Her first and only kiss. A 22 year old virgin was practically unheard of in this age.

How she hated him. He who had betrayed them, she and Rene. He had wormed his way into her heart, made a home there, in the short week he and Porthos had stayed with her family. Less than six months later he had written the short letter that served to notify her and her father of Rene's death.

Her father had succumbed to the madness of grief, leaving his daughter to care for him until he too died shortly after. She kept the manor. Kept it as it was, she visited every so often, to the joy of her small town, who awaited the day she would bring home a husband.

She had come across Athos, blind drunk, stumbling back to his rooms. She had held a knife to his throat, so close to spilling his blood right there in the street. It was dark, it was the perfect opportunity. But she wanted him sober, she wanted him to know who was bringing about his destruction, and why. She doubted he would remember her, or Rene.

She had pushed him forward, leaving nothing but a thin cut to one side of his neck, easily healed. He stumbled after her as she fled, shouting into the darkness. He recognised that scent that had enveloped him, memories stirring in the depths of his mind, but he stumbled back to his lodgings and slipped into drunken sleep before they rose to the surface.

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Athos awoke with his mind flooded with images of a beautiful young girl, and intelligent woman who had captivated him. Who he had almost become betrothed to, whose brother he had all but killed. She was here. His soldierly senses had been dulled by the wine last night, but this morning he could smell that unmistakable scent upon his clothes. He had wanted so often to return to her, to take her to the city, to make her his wife. Now it seemed she was here, and was preparing for revenge. So many years he had wondered what became of her, now he had the answer, he did not like it at all.


	6. Chapter 6

A month later, she gathered the courage, and her wits, to confront Athos. She had no real plan, other than to force him to fight her. If she died, so be it. If he died, then her brother was avenged.

'I have business with Athos' Isabelle said in her deepest voice to the garrison guards. They allowed her to pass, dressed as she was in tight men's trousers, a loose fitting cotton shirt and leather jacket. Her hair was braided and tucked beneath her hat. Her father's sword hung from her hip, a dagger tucked in her belt, pistol to her left.

'Athos!' she called, pretending to look for him, though she could see him at a table, playing cards with Porthos- he was still alive!- and a tanned young man she didn't recognise. 'I have some business to settle with you' he turned his gaze upon her, those piercing eyes, and he stood.

'What business might that be?' he asked, walking towards her, hand moving to his sword as hers did.

'I have come to settle a debt' she drew her sword and stared him down, removing her shabby and patched hat. Her braided hair swung free down her back. 'You killed my brother'

'I knew you would come someday Isabelle' he shook his head, removing his hand from his sword 'I will not fight a woman. Much less you'

'You cannot deny my right to avenge my brother!' she shouted, stepping quickly before him, the point of the sword beneath his chin. 'Draw your sword and duel me'

Slowly, he removed his weapon from its sheath, and raised it to hers 'Do not make me do this Isabelle'

Porthos stared at the girl her knew from long ago, challenging the best swordsman in the regiment to a duel. It was unwise to say the least, but he could see that Athos still did not want to fight. No one would want to duel with a woman, least of all Athos.

'You let him die Athos, you as good as killed him. You took Rene from me. The grief sent my father mad. Do not mock my pain' she spat at him, glancing at the audience they had gained, men wary and unsure if they should intervene.

'Athos did not kill your brother. I did' the voice behind her sent her blood cold, ice gripped her heart. Sword still firmly beneath Athos' chin, she drew her pistol and turns sideways to face the man who had spoken. He stared down the barrel of her gun without flinching. 'Hello Isabelle'

Speechless, she stared at him. Aged, but very clearly, her brother. Her heart clenched. Seven long years seeking bitter revenge, and he wasn't dead. So very, very alive. She lowered her sword, swung and pushed the point firmly against Rene's chest.

'You're alive?'

'I am' he nodded

'Why?' anger rose in her tone, her skin felt hot and cold at the same time. In her anger, she could kill him. How could he have done this to her?

'I was targeted, after the massacre of Savoy. Hunted, followed. They wanted me dead. Faking my death was the most painless solution to solve the problem.' His voice contained barely a tinge of regret 'Lower your sword Isabelle, do not be ridiculous'

'Painless?' she echoed, tucking her pistol away. With strength that surprised even her, she slapped him, sending him reeling backward.  
'You swine' she spat, poking his chest with the sword 'you coward. The news of your death sent my father mad with grief. He died less than 2 months later. You left me alone, abandoned, not even 16! Do you know how hard I had to fight for our families lands? Do you know what your loss did to me? 7 years I have trained, dueled, shot, to avenge your death. This is fathers sword. He pleaded on his death bed that I take it to be buried with you. So that some part of him may be with you in death' she was shouting now, unable to contain her rage.  
'Take it, you dog. You swine' she dropped the sword, the steel ringing as it clashed against the cobblestone. Another slap, to the other side of his face. A trickle of blood stemmed from his nose. 'I'm going home'

She pushed him out of the way, her strength increased with her rage and stormed through the courtyard, unhindered by the crowd of men. She turned as she reached the gate. 'Forgive me Athos, for cursing your name for so many years. I see the truth now. I am sorry' before any tears could escape her, she turned and ran.  
She pushed her way through the crowds to her lodgings, slamming her door and barring it, in case anyone had managed to follow. She stumbled to her knees, unable to stem the anguished sobs wracking her body. She struggled to pull the clothes off, feeling sullied by the events of the day. Her tears streaked down, dampening the bandages she used to bind her breasts. Slowly she unwound them, her chest heaving for air as she fought to stifle to sobs. Her beloved brother had faked his own death. He had lied to her.

Athos pressed his ear against the door, listening to her attempts to contain her emotion. She was failing miserably. She eventually must have buried her face in her mattress because the sound decreased considerably, though he stood guard outside her door until he heard the sounds of her packing.

Aramis was too ashamed to follow his sister. He retreated to his room, holding tightly to the sword his sister had flung at his feet. He prayed for forgiveness, wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand. It's not like he had forgotten her. How could he forget his only sister? He had prayed for her every night, thought of her every day. It had been necessary, he repeated to himself, for the deception. He had needed to die and was reborn Aramis. Rene was no longer. His empty grave was even in the field of slain musketeers, his name etched upon the stone.

In the early morning, Isabelle organised a carriage to take her home, her luggage loaded, she bid farewell to her landlord, apologizing for the sudden departure. She could see Athos standing his distance, watching her carefully. Wisely he did not intervene.

When she turned her back to Paris, and the carriage left the city behind, she did not look back. The knowledge her brother was alive had both quelled the flame of revenge and broken her. She would not fight for him again. Time to start her life for herself.

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So, what did you think? love to hear your thoughts/opinions/criticism!

much love, thanks for reading- Aj


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